


the chase

by bellaaanovak



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Again, John gets kidnapped, No established relationship, Post-Reichenbach, Pre-The Empty Hearse, Sherlock Saves The Day, john has already shaved that wretched mustache, of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaaanovak/pseuds/bellaaanovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets kidnapped and Sherlock goes all paranoid finding him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the chase

Everything was a blur. Whatever was in the needle some bloke jabbed into John’s neck was more than a little strong. He was falling over into the man’s arms, the pavement a faint sight before he fell from consciousness.

 

***

 

Mrs. Hudson all but _yelped_ from downstairs and Sherlock patiently waited for her to trot up the steps to him.

 

“Sherlock, oh, dear, we have a problem,” She said quickly.

“We have a problem? Do you mean _you_ have a problem?” Sherlock replied. He had to clean the flat; clearly it seemed she was distressed but he wished she would just get _on_ with it already.

“It’s John. I saw him from the window. H-he… he was stuck in the neck with a syringe of sorts and hauled off by a bloke in black!” Mrs. Hudson wiped her teary eye and Sherlock shoved a box of tissues at her.

“What direction did they go in?! How long ago was this? Come on, woman, pull yourself together, this is _John_ we’re talking about.” Sherlock hastily ran his hands through his curls and tugged on his coat and scarf.

“I… They went around the corner, you know, to the left if you’re looking straight at the flat – it was only a few minutes ago.”

 

Christ, they could be anywhere. No clues, no hints, no nothing. Sherlock would have to result just asking around, which was, of course, a pain.

 

The detective practically ran out of the flat, biting his lip and fiddling with his scarf. He noticed a woman sitting on a bench a few feet from the door and approached her.

“Hello, did you happen to see a man, a short, blonde man be stuck with a needle and carried off somewhere?”

 

The woman furrowed her eyebrows and then nodded cautiously. Come on, he hasn’t got time for this! “Where? Where did they go? Did they get into a car? Did they walk?”

“He was carried around that corner.”

 

Sherlock hurriedly thanked her and ran around the same corner the woman and Mrs. Hudson spoke of. It wasn’t extremely busy; that made his chances higher. There was a man leaning against a wall reading a few yards away from the corner.

 

“Hi, hello,” Sherlock said to the man. He looked up and smiled a return greeting. “Did you see a man haul another man into a car or a cab?”

“Yeah, yeah, was he blonde? The other man?” Sherlock nodded quickly and grinned. “Thought that was weird. Anyways, yeah, this guy in a beanie sat him in a cab – the license was, uh, _BD51 SMR_.” The detective smiled proudly and hastily shook the man’s hand for remembering. “Good luck!” He heard the man call after him.

 

Sherlock was on his phone searching for the plate number and its route. When he found it, he was relieved to see it wasn’t too far. He took off running through alleyways and parking lots in attempts to reach the cab in the quickest way possible. He caught sight of it and stayed close, but not close enough to where they’ll see him.

 

Why else would John be kidnapped if not to bring Sherlock in?

 

The cab stopped at an old warehouse-looking building. “Just my bloody luck, an abandoned warehouse.” Sherlock muttered aloud. He hid behind bushes as two men dragged John’s body through the doors. Sherlock winced seeing John like that.

 

Once the cab was well away from the warehouse, he crept as safely but quickly as he could. Stopping next to a window, he saw the two men – strangers to him – tying John to a chair and beating him awake. His nose and lips were bleeding and his eyes were bloodshot and droopy. “What have they done to you?”

 

Sherlock ducked under the window and all but crawled his way to the door. There was a little round window at the top of it and he peeked through just in time to see the two kidnappers head up a flight of stairs. Once he was sure they were out of sight, he opened the heavy door and slid in the room, rushing over to his best friend.

 

“John,” he whispered, gently resting his hands on the sides of his face. “John. Please. Wake up; we’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Sh…Sherlo…”

“Yes, yes, it’s me, alright, come on, work with me.”

 

The detective glanced to the stairs and heard nothing from the men. He began to untie John from the chair and pulled his notepad and a pen from his coat pocket. Scrawling something on a sheet, he tore it, set it on the chair, and hurriedly ushered John from the building.

 

They walked until they reached town and Sherlock hailed a cab. They got in and Sherlock yelled to take them to a hospital.

 

“Stay with me, John, come on. Oh, Christ, _step on it!_ ”

 

***

 

Everything was a blur and he was beginning to become annoyed with the amount of times strangers have poisoned and kidnapped him on behalf of Sherlock Holmes.

 

He began to recognize the room around him as a hospital room and the surface he was laying on as a hospital bed. The room was empty for a few minutes until a familiar, tall figure with dreadful curls and an obnoxious jawline strode in.

 

“What the _hell_ —“

“Don’t speak. You’re weak.” He said.

Ignoring him, John shook his head. “Sherlock, can you please tell me what happened?”

“You were kidnapped. I was informed by Mrs. Hudson a few minutes after the initial contact between you and the kidnapper and followed the cab you were hauled into until I found you at a warehouse a couple of miles outside of town.”

 

John smiled at his friend. One minute he’s head butting him in a fast food joint, and of course, the next he’s in a hospital bed thanking him for saving his life, _again_.

 

“I need to stop getting attacked to drag you in.”

“Well, it’s obvious every person who wants to get to _me_ knows I’ll always chase after you.” Sherlock replied with what John could swear was a _blush. Christ_.

 

“Right. Good. Thank you, anyways.”

 

They were quiet the next two hours while John got the poison drained from his bloodstream, simply making silent conversation and enjoying each other’s company.

 

Even though neither of them will admit it.

 

***

 

“He’s gone!” The man shouted when he walked downstairs.

 

The other man ran after him and saw the first pick up a note left on the chair. “What’s it say?”

 

_Not this time, gents!_

_With love,_

_SH_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American so please don't yell at me if my British dialect/narration is wonderfully horrible. I'm doing my best! Also, the license plate on the cab isn't real, it's a sample from Wikipedia.


End file.
